


Waiting for You

by Apple_Fairy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apple_Fairy/pseuds/Apple_Fairy
Summary: During their alliance, before the breaking and before the war, Kiku gives something to Arthur, something he didn't know he needed but so desperately wants. For this gift, and everything else, Arthur decides to place faith in that. And even as Kiku draws further for him, he waits for him, to return that favor.





	Waiting for You

**Author's Note:**

> A work I had found in my drafts that I had completely forgotten. Although it's a little vague I hope you can enjoy it. Thank you for reading!

For him, it’s only there, for a second. It was fast and hard to catch, something so blurry he couldn’t even give it a name. But it’s weight was enough to make sense in his heart, and so he knew its presence without even knowing what it was.

Kiku mistakes his silence for anger.

“I’m sorry. That was forward of me.” He knits his brow in worry, looking down in shame. Arthur catches back up with the moment and shakes his head.

“No, I just.” He looks back down at the table, a deep warm brown with a shining surface. The lamplight is dim. This was just meant to be a meeting. Arthur is trying to regain his footing in the moment and tries to focus on the simple logistics of a ship blueprint. “I’ve never heard you say it before.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. It just slipped out.”

Arthur blinks. He knows the feeling from a vast green field full of promise and from the mouth of a child. It’s so long ago. It’s so insignificant and it was so long ago, but the emotions come rushing back. His first idea is to resist it. But instead, he indulges himself.

“Could you…” Arthur gulps, not even sure what he was saying or doing, “Could you say it again?”

“I’m sorry?”

Arthur doesn’t look at him. He just lays his hands flat on the table surface and sighs into his chest.

“Please.”

He shouldn’t chase this, he knows. He doesn’t know what this is, but he knows that last time it didn’t end well. That good things come with heavy prices and he doesn’t know if he can pay anymore. Doesn’t even know if it’s worth it. But Japan is a different continent, a different country, and this is all a different world. He can believe. He wants to. It shocks him how Kiku has brought this out in him. It’s an impulse and he is going with it, because the sound of it had shaken him to his core. This is something.

He doesn’t know if it’s good or it’s bad but he’s willing to give it a try.

Kiku, warm eyes wavering in the lamp light, looks ahead. He isn’t shy when he says it. In this way he’s more respectful than the first time.

“...Arthur.”

It’s there again, a change, a tremor, a warning. Arthur closes his eyes. The tension is choking his heart. He sighs deeply, and puts his head in his hands.

“England? Are you okay?” Kiku asks.

“I don’t know why I asked you to do that. I’m sorry.”

“England?”

He’s so thankful he keeps saying his nation name. It grounds him in a way he needs right now. Arthur pulls himself back together, steels himself over whatever had bested him back there. He’s here now. This is an alliance. There are rules.

“How about we call it a night.” He begs more than asks, “It’s getting late.”

He makes sure to bring them back to shore. Kiku studies him for a moment, and the finality of this atmosphere is decided with his nodding.

This is an alliance. There are rules.

“Alright.” Kiku agrees.

Try as he might, Arthur can’t help his heart from panicking. He goes to bed, repeating Kiku’s inflection in his mind until he becomes disgusted with himself. It feels so close. So intimate. He wants to say this is love, but that’s not it. It’d be easy to say it’s love because then he can say he’s just desperate for attention. But that’s not it. There was something in his reaction that meant more and carried more weight.

It’s nice to be Arthur.

It sounds so nice to be Arthur.

* * *

The breaking comes in small pieces, a separation that is felt rather than told. It takes all of Arthur’s own will power to ask for Kiku to go on a walk with him. There is a mixture of dread and a feeling of pity. The imperialistic side of Arthur judges Kiku for being so full of himself. The desperation and the lonely parts understand. He wishes he could say he could support Kiku but he doesn’t. It was so easy before to just see him as a gorgeous figure in a cherry blossom grove. But that’s not fair. None of this is.

Kiku’s silence is icy and angry. They’re walking along the bank of a beach and the moon is a bare sliver in the night sky. The waves come and go with such gentle power and it reminds Arthur of home. He watches the skyline while Kiku waits for him to start. He should probably say something. He’s the one who called him out here.

“Were you happy?” He manages to say. He already hates himself. What a callous and childish thing to ask.

“With what?”

“I don’t know. The alliance?”

“I was able to learn a great deal from you. I’m grateful for that.”

It’s cold.

“Japan, I hope you can understand-”

“You’ve already explained your reasons. I don’t need to hear them again.”

Arthur looks down in shame. What is he doing here? Is he hoping to repair his own self image for his own satisfaction? Is he trying to patch over his mistakes so he can have he things he wants? He keeps thinking of his name. It was only twenty one years; Arthur has had alliances that stretched well beyond that. If you asked him if his time with Kiku meant anything, it didn’t. It was cordial and nice, but before they knew it, it was over. It was only twenty one years.

But his name. He keeps going back to his name. It’s never shaken him so much. There’s something there, and there’s something in the reason that Kiku saying it meant something. He wants to find out. He needs to know.

Kiku stops. Arthur stops with him, and Kiku doesn’t turn back to look at him. At that moment, Kiku’s back doesn’t look small to Arthur. He’s boiling with something deep in his soul that is hungry and angry and grasping.

You’re not the person I thought you were.

You were never supposed to be.

“For a moment,” Kiku sighs, “May I be honest with you?”

Arthur tries not to cry. “Alright.”

Kiku looks to the ocean and his profile is resilient and emotionless. He just looks so tired to Arthur. He’s an old soul who’s trying so hard.

“I believe, in the middle of all of this, I had to remind myself that this was political. By now, I’ve come to terms with that fact. I don’t blame you. This alliance was something we had both needed and now it’s unnecessary. That’s all there is to it.”

Arthur blinks. His eyes sting.

“Are you mad?” He asks in barely a whisper. Kiku’s expression doesn’t change.

“No.” He shrugs, “Not anymore.”

The sound of the crashing waves fill the spot between them. It sounds so soothing and constant. Push and pull, crashing and receding. The way Kiku lays it out makes so much sense, but Arthur is struggling. He feels stupid; there’s no need to get emotional about this. But his name. His own damn name.

“I was happy.” Arthur confesses.

Kiku turns to him, slightly surprised. Arthur’s expression is brilliant but cocky.

“During the alliance, I was happy. I liked talking with you and learning about you and being with you. It never felt just like politics. It felt...I don’t know what it felt like. But it felt like more.”

Kiku says nothing. He just watches him.

“So I...I can’t promise you anything. But I’d like to think that years after all this I can be with you again. I don’t want this to be permanent. I want...I want to go back to how it was.”

Arthur feels the heavy presence of his own heart, and he feels vulnerable in a way that makes him want to lash out at himself. The last time he’d mixed politics and emotions he was rewarded with the humiliation of defeat. Kiku isn’t the person he thought he was. This alliance was only twenty one years old. There’s nothing to any of this.

But there was. At a time. And he holds on.

“It really meant that much to you?” Kiku asks hollowly. Arthur stares at him straight on, prideful in his shame. He nods. Kiku looks away again, considering his answer.

“You’re optimistic, aren’t you?” Kiku muses.

“I’m not. That’s why I’m trying.”

Kiku smiles bitterly. He shakes his head.

“Admirable. But…” He says delicately, “You still don’t understand.”

“What?”

“I’m not waiting for you. I was never waiting for you.”

Kiku walks past him then, back from where they had come from. Arthur stands there, a sharp pain to his stomach, a voice telling him I told you so. What had he expecting? Kiku to leap into his arms and tell him he loves him? For Kiku to get emotional and to yell at him? He still didn’t know him. He’s not the person he thinks he is. And this declaration meant nothing if he wasn’t reaching out. Arthur isn’t a prince coming to rescue his love. There is no grandeur here, so Arthur just gets honest.

“Kiku.”

Kiku stops. When Arthur turns to look at him, he sees his shoulders shaking. Does your name carry weight too, he wonders. Are you also shaken by it?

“I’m the one waiting. Whether it’s this year or the next year or the year after that…” Arthur gulps, “...I’ll keep waiting for you. I’ll keep waiting until I can see you again.”

It isn’t a literal statement, but Arthur knows that Kiku understands. It’s just pretty words and they might mean nothing in the long run. But Arthur wants to place his faith in the pretty things and so he just lays himself bare. The selfish thing is to do it for the reaction, so Arthur doesn’t expect one. He just wants Kiku to know and he prepares himself for Kiku to just walk away and give him nothing.

He’s putting his heart on the line again. But twenty one years had meant something, as small as it was.

After what feels like forever, Kiku laughs dryly, his shoulders shaking. It sounds so tired to Arthur and it’s nothing he’ s heard from him before. Kiku shakes his head but doesn’t turn to see him.

“Please,” he pleads, “I’m really just an old man.”

Kiku walks off with nothing else and Arthur feels the sting of his sarcasm but he doesn’t let it kill him. If he was honest about this, he’ll take this and leave. He doesn’t know yet if he has the patience, but he had made a promise. He’d like to think he’ll wait for him. He’s willing to test himself in the time it takes, for whatever history will bring.

Because he knows he did wrong. He just hasn’t yet come to really accept that.

* * *

Kiku proves himself to Arthur in a way that is equal parts terrible and terrifying.

This doesn’t waver him. Even Arthur is shocked at himself. There is a part of him that hates him, but there is a part of him that still loves him.

It makes sense to him then, the idea of separating who he is and what he represents and Arthur wishes he could tell Kiku.

I get it now.

I know why I want you to say my name.

By the time he gets to tell him, Kiku is barely alive.

* * *

When he visits, Kiku is just as cold and yet more fragile. Arthur brings him roses and the disgusted look Kiku gives him doesn’t escape his notice. He’s heavily bandaged and bedridden and full of spite. Arthur tries to make small talk. Kiku looks outside the window, pale and bruised, and when he finally responds, Arthur feels sick to his stomach.

“He looked like you.” He struggles to say, “In that moment, I can see what he learned from you.”

Arthur tries to collect himself in the hallway, his heart hammering away, a deft blame sitting heavy on his shoulders. What am I doing? Why am I here?

You’re not a lovelorn lover waiting for forgiveness. You’re not a pained soul deserving his healing. You’re still doing this wrong.

You’re doing this all wrong.

(Arthur keeps waiting.)

* * *

It takes more visits. It takes more years. Kiku’s anger cools into ashamed reservation. One evening, Arthur is reading him poetry. He’s found this is more effective in the long run, and that Kiku likes to be distracted more than he wants to listen. He’s starting to respond more to the small talk. They’re not back where they were but they’re at least in a place where they’re not feeling insulted. A clock ticks on in the room, and Arthur turns a page, but Kiku shifts, his back turned to him. Arthur tries to take the cue.

“Are you feeling tired? Do you want to go to sleep?”

Kiku says nothing for a few seconds. He shifts again, curling into himself.

“Can you say it again?”

“Say what?”

“My name. You’ve only ever said it once.”

Arthur’s heart leaps. An immature part of him shines with hope. He feels the tentative pressure of this moment and acts carefully.

“...Kiku.”

Silence. The clock ticks on. Arthur is waiting for Kiku to say something, a confirmation, a confession, a disapproval. He’s waiting for words but he’s not given words. Instead, it starts softly and quietly. His body shakes, and Arthur feels a great sadness and a wish he could do more. He feels lost.

Kiku is crying.

“I was being foolish. I didn’t understand. The things I wanted were too much. I did so many terrible things.” Kiku cries, and it feels as if he’s confessing his sins to Arthur. Arthur doesn’t know what he should do, but he knows Kiku wants him there at least.

“I just thought…” Kiku sobs, “I just thought it was the only way to survive.”

Arthur wonders if he’s the only person to have heard this. He wonders if Kiku wants his comfort. He wants to know why he’s being confided in, but most importantly, he wants to know what he can do for him. It was only twenty one years but Arthur’s heart has never hurt so much for someone.

“Kiku…” He says at a loss of what to do. Kiku shifts again, and holds his hand out for Arthur, while still turned away from him. Arthur takes the hint and holds it. Kiku’s hold is weak, and his hands are scarred. He doesn’t remember them being this scarred when they were in the alliance. Arthur holds onto his hand with such gentle strength, an attempt to show him he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Did it feel terrible when you had to let them go?” Kiku asks, voice muffled by the pillow. Arthur knows what he means. He studies their clasped hands.

“It did.”

“Because you would miss them?”

“No. Because I felt like I was getting weaker.”

Kiku sniffles. He grips Arthur’s hand back.

“The world doesn’t need empires anymore.” Arthur doesn’t so much tell him, as much as he tells himself. It feels final and although it’s right, it’s hard to shake off the things you do to survive. Arthur was a villain. He’s worried that’s all he can be.

“Then what else can I be?” Kiku wonders aloud, his voice soft and hollow, “A colony? Will I have to serve America forever?”

“No.”

“Then what am I?”

“You don’t have to be a colony. You don’t even have to be a nation right now. You can just...You can just be Kiku.”

It falls into place for Arthur, all the things he had wanted to tell him, all the things he didn’t understand himself. Arthur feels freed by that idea, and he wants desperately for Kiku to understand. Not for his sake, but for Kiku to feel relieved at this thought, to feel the same comfort. He wants to do something for him. It feels so strange to want to give someone so much love, but Arthur wants to embrace that.

Kiku turns to Arthur, his eyes red, and his hair a mess. He looks achingly weak, as if he was barely holding on. This was him, Arthur realizes. That glorified figure in a cherry blossom grove, that hateful thing on a battlefield, neither of these things were Kiku. That was Japan, under veils of offensive exotification and seen with the angry gaze of propaganda. But this was him. Relatable, struggling, complex and beautiful. This is you, Arthur is amazed. This is you.

This is Kiku.

“You always understood.” Kiku whispers. “Out of all the nations I’ve met, you’re the only one who understood.”

Arthur blushes. He didn’t even realize there was that part to him. He didn’t know Kiku felt that same connection. He doesn’t know how to react when he’s given such gratitude. He doesn’t think he deserves it. Kiku turns his head to the ceiling and his eyes stare listlessly above him. He breathes, deep and heavy, tear stains on his cheeks.

“Are you still waiting?” He asks. It takes Arthur a moment to remember what he was talking about. It had been so ingrained in him at this point that he had forgotten to acknowledge it.

“...I am.”

Kiku closes his eyes. He smiles.

“Keep waiting.”

Arthur begins to cry. It feels so nice to be accepted. He nods.

He waits.

* * *

“...So, of course, it’d be impossible to pass up that chance, right? I mean he was right there and it was perfect.”

“Yes, yes.”

“So I get an ice cube from my drink. I pull back his collar. I- oh, damn.”

“What is it?”

Arthur pulls down the shirt from the clothesline, and peers at the white fabric. He makes a disappointed humming sound.

“You’ve got a tear.”

A wind chime twinkles in the background and Kiku rises from the porch. The sun would be shining if it wasn’t so cloudy. The clothes flutter lazily in the breeze. Kiku goes next to Arthur and looks at the shirt with him.

“You’re right.”

“Do you have a sewing kit? I could fix this up for you.”

He does. Arthur follows him inside, carrying the laundry basket on his hip. Pochi watches them from the veranda. Soon enough, Arthur is sewing the stitch back up, his fingers precise on the needle, his eyes half lidded in concentration. Kiku wonders if he should bring it up now. It’s been bothering him all day in a way that wasn’t annoying but felt significant.

“What is it?”

Kiku blinks out of his thoughts, surprised. “I’m sorry?”

Arthur looks back up at him, and he’s not angry but patient. “You’ve been staring at me like that all day. Is something wrong?”

Kiku tries to catch up with his own self and looks down at his lap. Arthur looks so young in the afternoon sunlight. It’s hard to look at him.

“This will sound strange. It might not make much sense.” Kiku cushions his own thoughts.

“You know I don’t mind. Go ahead and tell me.”

“...You look so human today.”

Arthur blinks. Kiku feels his face flush with embarrassment. He tries to catch himself.

“I-I’m sorry, I know that’s a strange thing to say-”

“Thank you.”

Kiku looks at him confused. Arthur’s eyes are strong and earnest, and he looks powerful to Kiku in the way beautiful things can look. Arthur smiles, somewhat tiredly, and goes back to sewing.

“I think I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“Back during our alliance, you made me feel that way.”

Kiku blushes.

“I know, it doesn’t make much sense.” Arthur agrees, “It’s hard to describe. But I guess...I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a lot since then. I think it’s like, I didn’t have to worry about everything else with you. I didn’t have to always be thinking or politics or power balances, or perform for you. There was a separate part of me you brought out. That you saw.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“I know. It was.” Arthur shakes his wrist out, and examines his work. “But I wanted to trust you.”

Trust. The word settles down into Kiku’s heart, spreads and grows in such a lovely way. It’s very hard to trust and it’s hard to imagine why anyone would. But it’s a pretty thought. And Arthur was radiant in a way he’s never been when he was an empire.

“...It’s not really just love is it?” Kiku wonders. Arthur looks at him.

“I don’t think so. I just liked the person I was around you.”

It’s strange to think the things that come out in relationships. There wasn’t a passion or a fervor to this. There wasn’t an aching love story. There was acceptance and forgiveness and a connection. There was care. There was the feeling of being a better person with someone and for someone. Kiku likes that more than the idea of passion. He likes it more than the idea of how things used to be. He likes things how they’re meant to be. He likes the idea of being human.

He likes his name.

Kiku leans forward, his head resting against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur stops for a moment, embarrassed. He calms down, because he knows Kiku’s moves are thoughtful and so he trusts in that. Kiku wonders if he should tell him everything. He wonders if he should confess that Arthur makes him feel understood and loved and different. That it’s just as he says; that there’s no anxiety and no stress. That it didn’t matter to him that twenty one years meant nothing to them. What mattered was that he met him. That he knew him.

That he loved him and was loved by him.

But Arthur probably understood him so well that he didn’t need to say it anyway. Kiku settles for something else.

“You know,” he whispers, “For me, this is happiness.”

Arthur smiles. Just as Kiku predicted, he already knew. He wraps an arm around him, and they stay like that. Watching the laundry flow in the breeze, watching the clouds roll in the sky, experiencing the day as it came. Fleeting, beautiful, and finally, whole.


End file.
